#//yes i've recently picked up michael

[troublcmakcrs]

//the only real goth kids are tweek, heidi, and stan. all the other ones are faking it

[sixshotsinatumbllr]

Miracle Logs

Resharing my first one-shot here as a text post because I enjoyed writing it so much. You can also find it on Ao3 here

We all know that fun trope in Aziracrow fics where Aziraphale and Crowley will miracle away clothing and after-sex mess, and miracle in lube. But surely that's all showing up on some kind of report somewhere.

Welcome to my very first ever fanfic, where Michael's ambitions to be the Duty Officer backfire spectacularly.

This one-shot is based on a post someone made on Tumblr a few months ago. I can't remember who made the original post, but seeing that I've pretty much claimed that idea and ran with it, so if anyone knows who made that post, let me know so I can credit the author. Thanks to @addledmongoose on Tumblr, who reminded me of that post and encouraged me to write this, and *exceptional* thanks and a big ol' gold star to @howmanyholesinswisscheese who was a fantastic beta- love your work. Fic under the cut.

‘Well, I am the Duty Officer, Uriel,’ the Archangel Michael says crisply, standing in front of the clear desk that had, up until very recently, been Gabriel’s. ‘The work must fall to someone in…these circumstances-’

‘And that person is you,’ Uriel says dryly.

‘And that person is me,’ Micheal replies smugly.

Uriel sighs, turns and walks off down the corridor without another word, disappearing into the luminosity of Heaven’s expanse.

Michael sits at the desk, with a wiggle so small it would be easy to miss it. She gestures gracefully with a well-manicured hand, and the image of a screen manifests itself in front of her. She smiles beatifically, leaning forward slightly, and starts to explore the additional windows and programs that Gabriel had on his screen.

‘Now, let’s see what we’ve got,’ she murmurs to herself as she starts to scroll and open unfamiliar programs.

There’s extra surveillance footage of the all the zones of Heaven itself, she notes with interest. Saraqael is talking to a low-order scrivener on one of the little boxes of closed-circuit footage. Michael flicks audio on; hears them talking about mundane paperwork. Nothing of interest, so she flicks the audio off again.

Swiping to the side, she catches the sight of Sandalphon staring out the windows to the simulation of the Pyramids of Giza. He vacantly brings a finger to his nose and picks around in it with a vigour that reminds Michael of his enthusiasm with smitings. Michael retches and clicks out of the screen. His non-corporeal body doesn’t even produce mucus…why would he do that?

She notes extra surveillance footage of Heaven itself. She zooms in on a screen, watches Saraqael talking to a low-order scrivener. She flips audio on and off- they are talking about mundane paperwork, nothing of interest there. She swipes to the side, sees Sandalphon standing out the windows, staring out to the simulation of the Pyramids of Giza. He vacantly brings a finger to his nose and starts picking it. Michael retches and clicks out of the screen. His non-corporeal body doesn’t even produce mucus. Why would he do that?

She opens the program labelled ‘Miracle Logs: Earth- Live’. A globe of the Earth opens, a simulation of the blue-green planet, so many of the Heavenly Host are prideful of, suspended and slowly turning on the screen. Almost immediately, there’s the sound of a single bell, a tinny ding, and flag appears over the landmass known as Australia. She clicks it, and it brings up to the screen:

= (Novalis) (Principality//Dorrigo, Australia, Earth) minor healing miracle: gifts focus to a neurodivergent human (0.02 Lazuri)=

This is interesting, Michael thinks. She touches the globe and yes, it is movable. She scrolls it around so that England comes into view, and zooms in on London. Her grin blooms wide across her face.. Here we go, she thinks. Documented proof of the shifty things the Principality Aziraphale gets up to- he’s long overdue for some radical discipline.

As is right on cue, a new notification flashes up onto the screen:

= Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): minor miracle: thwarts human will (convinces human to not buy a book) (0.02 Lazuri)=

Michael raises an eyebrow. She makes a note to schedule a meeting with the Metatron. It really is time for Aziraphale to come back to Heaven. But first to find some more…damning evidence. She settles into her chair.

A few minutes pass, and a new notification pops up:

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Activation of exception to Demonic wards (continuous), the Demon Crowley, AZ Fell and Co, Independant Embassy of Heaven, Soho, London - 0.03 Lazuri)=

Well. As far as incriminating evidence goes, this notification is useful. She’s working out how to screenshot and save the notification when another two notifications pop up.

= Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London Earth): minor miracle: lock doors, lowers blinds (0.01 Lazuri)=

= Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): minor miracle: bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape teleported from wine cellar to book shop (0.01 Lazuri)=

Michael rolls her eyes. Frivolous miracles, always a problem with Aziraphale. Wasting divine energy on his own selfish satisfactions. Gluttony. Drunkenness. Sin.

Michael sits restlessly at the screen for a few more minutes but nothing more happens. There are other duties she needs to attend to- she needs to catch up with Saraqael about a few things, and there’s that meeting with the Metatron to arrange. She wanders off, but leaves the notification alerts on.

She walks off, deals with a few things, and returns when she hears the sharp ding of the alerts start to go off more rapidly.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic corporeal contact enacted upon an angelic being: Demon touches Aziraphale’s face.=

Michael huffs again. Well this really is-

Ding.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic corporeal contact enacted upon an Angelic being: Demon kisses Aziraphale (lips)=

Ding.

Michael raises her eyebrows, feeling less sure about all of this Duty Officer nonsense now.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic corporeal contact enacted upon an Angelic being: Demon kisses Aziraphale (neck)=

Michael feels a rising flush moving up her neck to her cheeks. She tries to work out how to click out of the program, but before she can, the next run of notifications begins.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Angelic corporeal contact enacted upon an Demonic being: Aziraphale removes demonic neck tie=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): minor miracle: jacket, vest and shirt removed from demonic corporeal body (0.03 Lazuri)=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) blasphemes=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Angelic corporeal contact enacted upon an Demonic being: Aziraphale touches Demonic chest=

Michael is… flummoxed.

She pages Uriel to the desk. It’s not long until the clicking of Uriel’s business heels on the hard white floors of Heaven is heard coming along the corridor.

Michael smiles sweetly at her as she approaches. ‘My Duty Officer shift is over,’ Michael says. ‘It’s your turn now.’

Surprised, and a little confused, Uriel nods. Michael stands and gestures to the chair, one eyebrow raised.

Uriel says nothing as she sits down at the desk, but from the tension around the side of her mouth, one could infer that she is feeling just a little bit proud. Like she’s proved something. She reaches out a hand, straightens the screen and with lift of her chin, turns her attention to the notifications streaming onto the soft, glowing screen.

And falters.

Michael is standing behind her. Michael had planned on walking away. On finding something far less taxing to do, something that might make her forget everything she’s seen today.

She can’t walk away.

Uriel watches with wide eyes as the next notification pops up: =Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Angelic corporeal contact enacted upon an Demonic being: Aziraphale engages with Demonic nipples (two)=

Uriel gestures almost without thinking, and a miracle block is enacted upon Aziraphale.

‘Good work, Uriel,’ Micheal stammers. ‘Exactly what I was about to do.’

‘I…um… don’t suppose you did the training to enact a Miracle Blocker on demons when they held it last century, did you?’ Uriel asks.

‘Ah, no.’ Michael replies, and they both slump a little.

–

Aziraphale tries the gesture again, confusedly. Crowley remains just as clothed (half-clothed?) as he was. Tangled as he is under the weight of Crowley’s body on the Chesterfield sofa, drunk with lust and wine, he’s rather unable to think about why his miracles aren’t working. He tries again. Nothing.

‘My miracles aren’t working,’ he says to Crowley, a purr in the demon’s ear, as the demon kisses up his neck and along his jaw. ‘Would you- ah- mind?’

Crowley looks down at him with a mischievous, joyous glint in his eye. ‘Oh I don’t mind, Angel,’ he says. “I don’t mind at all…’

–

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: tartan bow tie removed from angelic corporeal body (0.01 Lazuri)=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: shoes and socks removed from angelic corporeal body (0.01 Lazuri)=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: waistcoat removed from angelic corporeal body (0.01 Lazuri)=

Michael gulps. Uriel grabs Micheal’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip. Neither of them can look away.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: remaining clothing removed from angelic corporeal body (0.03 Lazuri)=

Uriel clears her throat. ‘I- I guess he got impatient?’ she murmurs weakly.

They look at each other. Then away. Then back at the computer. There’s no real way of knowing what the Traitor and the Demon are up to. A pause in the miracles logged means no documentation. But neither of them are stupid.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: lubrication manifested from the ether (0.04 Lazuri)=

‘What’s lubrication?’ Michael asks.

‘You don’t want to know,’ Uriel replies.

There is a long, heavy pause from the screen, and then all of a sudden, sharp ding of the alert starts going crazy.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) blasphemes=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) blasphemes=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) blasphemes=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) uses language not befit to an angel=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) blasphemes=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) uses language not befit to an angel=

=outbreak of unscheduled DIVINE ECSTASY (666 kilometre radius, centred in Soho, London, Earth)=

=outbreak of unscheduled DEMONIC RAPTURE (unknown radius, centred in Soho, London, Earth)=

Michael and Uriel stare at the screen, which has gone still. Finally. The absence of the searing ding of the notification alert is as keen and sharp as the alert itself. They don’t move, they don’t look at each other. They just… absorb what they have witnessed. They need a moment.

Another ding makes them both jump.

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth) uses language not befit to an angel=

=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): Evidence of Demonic miracle enacted upon an Angelic being: corporeal bodily fluids (various, angelic and demonic) teleported to the ether (0.04 Lazuri)=

=Evidence of a demonic miracle enacted upon an angelic being Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth): corporeal bodily fluids (various, angelic and demonic) teleported to the ether (0.03 Lazuri)

‘How- how in Heaven did Gabriel deal with this?’ Michael spits, flustered. Uriel sits at the desk, her head in her hands.

Before the Memory wipe:

Gabriel sits at his desk. It’s been a boring day of banal bureaucracy, but now it’s his afternoon off. And there’s nothing he’d rather do than catch up on his favourite Miracle Logs.

The Miracle Logs are his favourite thing in Heaven, because these logs will eventually form documentary evidence of a successful relationship between an Angel and a Demon. A precedent.

Gabriel’s not stupid. He knows that there has been something going on for a long time between Aziraphale and Crowley. Possibly even before he himself started seeing Beezelbub in an extra-professional capacity.

He hadn’t paid much attention to Aziraphale for 6000 years, irritating Principality that he is. But now, he counts himself as Aziracrow Shipper number #1. Because if they can do it- go off together, be their own side- then perhaps it’s possible for Gabriel and Beezelbub too.

He zooms into AZ Fell and Co. Nothing much is happening. The last miracle (=Aziraphale (Principality//Soho, London, Earth: minor miracle: boil kettle- 0.015 Lazuri) blinks softly on the screen from an hour ago.

Gabriel miracles an anonymous angelic temptation (temptation to be in the same physical vicinity) over the London area, and narrows the scope to the Demon Crowley. And then he miracles an hamper of gourmet food and the finest of wine (he knows Aziraphale likes to sully his celestial body with gross matter, although Gabriel can’t see the appeal himself) to be anonymously delivered to the bookshop.

He sits back on his chair, and waits for the notifications to begin. It doesn’t take long.

Ding!

=Aziraphale (Principality, Soho, London, Earth): evidence of demonic proximity (AZ Fell and Co, Soho, London, Earth)=

=Aziraphale (Principality, Soho, London, Earth): Activation of exception to demonic wards (continuous), the Demon Crowley, AZ Fell and Co., Soho, London - 0.03 Lazuri)=

Bonus:

It’s been a shit day in Hell. They are all shit days, there’s been rather more than 6000 years of them. But things are looking up for Beelzebub, Grand Duke of Hell. Lounging at their desk, feet crossed and propped up on the table, Beelzebub lounges back in their throne with a box of popcorn in their lap.

They have their screen open to the Demonic Miracles Log: Earth- Live. The dings of the alerts- coming thick and fast- can only just be heard over the screams of the damned in the corridors of Hell.

‘Nice work, Crowley,’ they mutter with a leering grin. ‘At least one of us is getting some.’ Beezlebub throws a piece of popcorn into the air and catches it in their mouth.

[daenysthedreamer101]

Youngest Original ~ TVDU

Ch 5 - Where are you?

Mikaelson!OC

Warnings: none really, minor description of blood, compulsion

Masterlist

This is the shortest chapter by far, save the prologue and it is kind of filler but I liked it regardless, hope you like it as well

I'm a shoulder you can cry on Your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on

Mystic Falls, September 2010

In the following weeks, the renovations on the mansion Kassandra and Klaus picked out took place. It was mostly over, the only place left was the entrance hall. The bedrooms upstairs were all finished.

Klaus was currently gone, doing God knows what with his hybrids, so she was alone in the house. She was brushing out her hair and listening to music. Many of the artists she loved in the 80s and 90s were now older or passed away. She cried when she found out Michael Jackson passed away.

She was listening to "Chiquitita" by ABBA. As the finishing touch, she sprayed perfume on her wrists and neck - it was vanilla-scented with hints of rose and citrus. Once she was satisfied with herself she made her way downstairs.

Her mind was on her sister. It's been weeks and there was no sign of her. Rebekah was capable of protecting herself, sure, but she would be defenseless with a dagger in her heart. Kassandra sighed as she nervously played with the heart-shaped ring on her hand. 

Stefan Salvatore had stolen the caskets containing her sibling's bodies and he was using that as leverage against Klaus. "I just hope we find them soon..." She thought as she poured herself blood into a wine glass.

~

Kassie was currently on the couch in the living room - she was watching the movie adaptation of one of her favorite novels, The Lord Of the Rings. The movies were filmed and released while she was daggered so she only recently found out about their existence. 

She was currently on the scene where Aragorn and Arwen were talking to each other before the shards of Narsil when all of a sudden Klaus came in bursting through the house, sounding rather annoyed.

"Kassandra!" He yelled, his voice echoing through the large mansion. She sighed and paused the movie. 

"Here." She answered softly, knowing he would hear her. In an instant, he appeared in front of her. She looked up at him, with an annoyed expression on her face. "Yes?"

"Put some shoes on. We're going on a little field trip." He said as he took the remote from her hands and turned off the TV. 

"Hey! I was watching that!" She exclaimed. 

"What do you mean field trip? What are you talking about?" Kassie asked, confused.

"I've found a way to find Bekah." He replied. 

She looked at him suspiciously. "How?" She asked with narrowed eyes. 

"And here I thought Rebekah was the judgy one." He joked. "What do you think I've been doing all this time?" 

Kassie simply shrugged her shoulders. Klaus chuckled and put his arm around her. "Have some faith in me, love." She gave him an unimpressed look.

"So, what is your master plan?" She asked as she got up from the couch, in the process pushing away Klaus's arm.

He chuckled again. "It's fairly simple - a locator spell." 

"Of course! God, how haven't I thought of that!?" Kassie exclaimed. They walked toward the front door where her jacket was. "So that means you found a witch to help you?"

"Naturally."

"Right. But don't you need the blood of a relative to find the missing person?"

"And that's where you come in, dear sister." He said as he held the door open and the two of them walked out of the house.

Kassie furrowed her brows. "But you're her sibling as well. Why didn't you just give your blood?"

"The witch demanded your blood. She said yours would be better since you and Bekah are full-blooded siblings." He replied and Kassie didn't miss the hurt in his voice.

"And the witch said it would work even better because of your matching rings" Klaus added as they got inside his car.

Kassie and Bekah had matching heart-shaped rings. They were fairly simple in design, the only difference was that Rebekah's was made of gold and Kassie's was silver. They bought them from a small jewelry store back in the 1800s. The two sisters never took them off. (xx)

"Right...so where are we going exactly?"

"Thankfully for us, she moved to Richmond a couple of years ago."

~

Two hours later they found themselves in front of a small, shabby-looking apothecary. Klaus entered first and Kassie followed. The inside didn't look any better - dust was visible in the air, cobwebs covered most of the shelves, and an unpleasant smell of something burning was present.

"How...lovely..." Kassandra remarked as she looked around unimpressed.

"Now, now love, we're not here to be judgy," Klaus responded. Soon after, an elderly woman appeared. She was on the shorter side. Her golden hair was tied back into one long braid. Her icy blue eyes bore into Kassandra. 

Even though her youth was fading away, Kassie could see traces of her former beauty. The woman wore a flowy blue dress with long sleeves and had many necklaces covering her neck. On her head, she had a beautiful black headband. 

"Kassandra, this is Natalya. She will help us find Bekah." Klaus introduced the two women. The witch grabs Kassandra's hand and takes off her heart-shaped ring. After a few seconds, she lets her go and goes behind the counter.

She opens up a map of Virginia and puts it on the counter. She also brings out a knife. "Will you do it or shall I?" The witch asks Kassandra. 

Kassie is quiet for a second, then picks up the knife and cuts her left palm. She hissed but endured the pain. Blood dripped from her hand down onto the map. Natalya took the ring, grabbed Kassie's free hand, and started muttering.

As she was muttering, the blood started moving around the map. After a couple of seconds, it stopped right above two words - Mystic Falls. 

"I knew it! I told you, she never left town." Kassie exclaimed. 

Klaus hummed in response. "I think I know where she is." 

After they met with the witch, they returned to their mansion. Klaus poured himself a glass of bourbon while Kassandra watched, waiting for him to reveal his plan. 

He downed the remainder of his drink and turned to his sister. "Here's what you'll do. You'll go to their little Mystic Falls High and compel yourself an enrollment paper." 

"You want me to enroll in their high school? Why?" Kassie asked with furrowed brows.

"Because, little dove, I need you to be my eyes and ears since Rebekah is down at the moment." He explained while one of his hands moved a strand of hair from her face.

"You want me to spy on Elena and her friends." She concluded quickly.

"I knew you were a smart girl." He said with a wicked smile.

"But they'll know it's me. Stefan will recognize me." Kassie pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. What can they do against you? To everyone else, you're just the new girl in town." 

Kassie sighed. "I'll get to it, then." She picked up her purse, took the car keys from the table, and begrudgingly went to do what was expected of her.

~

"This is ridiculous." She thought as she parked the expensive Audi in the school parking lot. She got out of the car and walked inside the building. Her heels clicked against the floor, the sound reverberating off the walls. 

The halls were quiet and the school was almost empty, save for a few professors and a janitor. There seemed to be no students present. "To be fair it is Friday evening." She told herself.

She finally found her way into the office of the school secretary. "Right. Let's get this over with." Kassie thought as she entered the office. 

The woman seemed surprised by her entrance and asked her what she needed. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I need enrollment papers." Kassie said, trying to be nice before inevitably using her powers. 

"Do you have any documentation with you?"

"No."

"Hun, how do you think to enroll without any documentation?"

"Like this," Kassie said as she leaned over the counter, looked the woman in the eye, and compelled her. 

After 10 minutes of waiting Kassie got her papers. She once again compelled the woman to forget their entire interaction and then left the office. 

~

Sherrif Liz Forbes was in Mystic Falls High, picking up some papers for Caroline. On her way there, she noticed an expensive-looking car parked in front of the school.

Once she entered the school and was walking toward the secretary's office, she saw an unfamiliar young woman walking out of said office.

The girl was tall, with long brown hair, and was dressed affluently. There was something odd about her, Liz thought, she didn't seem like a regular high school girl.

Before she could do anything, the girl was gone. Shaking her head, Liz entered the office and greeted the secretary. 

"Hello, Grace." 

"Oh, Liz! Hello, how are you?"

"I'm good...Grace, who was that girl?" Liz asked.

Grace tilted her head in confusion. "What girl?"

"...The girl that just walked out of your office."

"There was no one here. You're the first person to enter my office since lunch break." 

"Are you sure?" Liz asked again.

Grace chuckled. "I think I would know if someone entered my office, Liz." 

"Of course," Liz said, alarm bells going on in her head. "A vampire..." she thought grimly. 

***

Kassie and Klaus figured out that Bekah was daggered and we see how deep Kassie's care is for Bekah. We see her compel her way into high school lol and at the end, Sheriff Liz almost catches Kassie in the act. Hmmm..

Thank you for reading 💜💜💜

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

[racingliners]

Fic Writer Interview

tagged by @monacotrophywife and @alpinelogy tysm Lima & Erika!!!! 💚

How many works do you have on AO3?

27! Mostly F1 fics with some Star Trek ones too.

What's your total word count?

581,636. Let it be known that I do enjoy going off on one.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Rules of Strategy (153)

the og version of Life In The Fast Lane (144)

This Must Be a Mistake (116)

I Guess You Are Right (86)

No Mistakes With You (77)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try my best to! Mainly because I feel like the only way to acknowledge a comment on ao3 is to reply to it, and it's a nice space to talk about my thought process for a scene or bit of dialogue if someone mentions a part that they liked!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I make it a point to keep the angst to a minimum because I'm just too soft dbhdbshbh

I guess the closest I have to an angsty ending is I'll Be Okay, Someday which has an open ending (though with a hopeful vibe)

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Definitely No Mistakes With You - nothing like kissing the love of your life on your wedding day in the bright summer sunshine (I was very much going for maximum fluff in that one)

Do you write crossovers?

Yes! Discretion Is The Better Part of Valour is my beloved Shovson Star Trek AU that I wrote for the hypersoft fest and set (roughly) during Star Trek Discovery. I'm actually in the process of writing a prequel for it (but in prose format) which is v exciting!!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no (pretty sure it would make me want to stop writing forever)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I'm very much a hand-wavy, fade to black smut writer (the closest I've got to writing smut was in Depths) only because I think it's really hard to write good smut (there is so much good smut out there like oh my god) and I know that as a writer I'm not at the point where I want to try so for now I'll leave it to the experts until I'm brave enough.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Thankfully not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd definitely be open to it!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not in the official sense. DITBPOV which I mentioned above was a collab with @shovson (he drew the most stunning art for it!) and when we were planning everything we bounced a load of ideas back and forth, a good few of which ended up in the final work.

I have absolutely no idea how the process of co-writing a fic even works but if the stars aligned I like to think I'd be down for it!

What's your all-time favourite ship?

For Star Trek it's a tie between Trip/T'Pol from Star Trek Enterprise or Michael/Book from Star Trek Discovery.

For F1 I think Sewis has definitely barged its way into my heart (the 2022 drivers dinner was what sealed it for me), but Shovson has definitely jumped up the list recently.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Not gonna lie friends I am so worried that my re-written version of Life In The Fast Lane is going to be in WIP hell forever 😭. Partially because I hit a bit of a road block with it a few months ago but also because I grossly underestimated how big a project it would be (past me did not leave a lot to work with so a lot of the Season 1/2023 chapters was written from scratch).

I love it so so dearly, it's the fic that got me back into writing for F1 and fic writing in general so I'll always love and adore it for that. Maybe if I just lock myself in a cabin in the woods with no distractions I might be able to pick it up again, I want to finish it because I put so much effort into being able to make it an original work with all the worldbuilding and planning, but my inspiration for it has just sadly ran very dry :(

What are your writing strengths?

Setting descriptions I think. When I'm picturing things in my head it's always quite vivid so I like to write that down for the reader's benefit. I'm also very detail orientated so it just goes hand in hand I feel.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I wouldn't call it a weakness but I definitely feel the least confident in writing dialogue. I constantly have the fear of someone going "they would not fucking say that" in the back of my mind and it's definitely to my detriment. And also because I'm autistic I struggle writing humour and banter because I find it difficult to understand IRL.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think if you're gonna do it you have to do it a) for a proper meaning and b) execute it properly. I can definitely see the appeal for a realism point of view, but as I can only speak English I'll only ever do single words or very short phrases that I am fairly certain will be accurate if I put them into a translator, anything longer or a full conversation and I'll just say what language the characters are speaking in.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

F1! the og LITFL was my gateway into fic writing (hence why I wanted to re-write it in the first place, it has a lot of places for improvement)

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I've mentioned this before but I definitely want to write some Jenson/Lewis. idk what but it's just niggling there in the back of my mind, I feel like there's a lot of potential.

Also every few months I get the idea to write a Tennis AU but I very quickly talk myself out of it because I just do not have the headspace for it right now.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Also going to do a list bc it's my house

The Rules of Strategy - they say you should write what you want to read and writing Merc Engineer Seb just brings me a stupid amount of joy (writing Lewis winning is also v v nice)

Discretion Is The Better Part of Valour - I had the most fun planning this with Synth, but I also loved playing around with the screenplay format too! And also just merging my interests was so fun

Life In The Fast Lane (original work version) - as mentioned above, my baby!!! I just love my little gaggle of OCs so so much and I really do think about this fic allllllllllllllll the time. It just refuses to translate to typing words into the word doc at the moment.

Sister - Hands down my favourite Star Trek fic I've written, just for getting to write my own interpretation of Kelvinverse!Michael and Spock's relationship.

tagging (as usual, absolutely zero pressure!): @hungriestheidi, @seafoampearlygirl, @kaossbells, @brawngp2009 and @avida-heidia-5

[raw-law]

Just curious....what is your favorite book? Fiction and/or non-fiction

Light:

Well, my favourite fictional book probably's got to be Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory, by Raphael Bob-Waksberg. The name may be a mouthful, but I quite enjoy his whimsical collection of short stories. They're imaginative, and provide a much-needed break from the world with their creativity and resonance with many people. Personally, I really enjoy it, and you might wanna check it out someday!

My favourite non-fiction book, on the other hand, has been a book I've read recently: How to Be Perfect, by Michael Schur. It's a beginner's guide to philosophy, in easy-to-understand language, and it's the perfect guide--if I do say so myself--if you're looking to get closer to the subject.

There's another one which I also find rather interesting: Why Politics Fails, by Ben Ansell. The title is pretty self-explanatory, and he talks about five main political 'traps': the democracy trap (no will of the people), the equality trap (equality of rights being undermined by equality of outcomes), the solidarity trap (what we want for ourselves not being what we want for others), the security trap (wanting protection but not at the cost of our freedoms) and lastly, the prosperity trap (what we want now shortchanging the future). I heavily recommend this comprehensive guide to politics if you're interested in that kinda thing!

Sorry this turned out a little long---hopefully the bolding, italicising, and text colour helped with comprehensiveness---but thanks for the ask all the same, Anon. I quite liked answering your refreshing question.

L:

... this might be where i have to admit that i prefer my non-fiction media in video essay form... because the only books i can think of are fiction. and even then, they're more on the shorter or childish side. i guess i'm not that much of a reader, at least in the sense of seeking books out on my own accord.. whoops.

my favorite book might just be If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. yes, i do know it's a child's tale, but it's the only book i can think of that i really enjoyed. i also remember being fond of Margaret Haddix's The Missing series. i only read the first book and never picked it up again, but i did like it when i was younger. so i guess there's that too. hopefully that counts..?

light wins on this ask. like i said, i prefer things in video form. but thank you for the ask anyhow, anon.

[transmascxielian]

song analysis of michael caine by madness in relation to siffrin!!

[plain text of title: song analysis of michael caine by madness in relation to siffrin!!]

having recently gotten into ISAT and spent considerable time with my qpp discussing songs that fit siffrin, I've come to the conclusion that it is SUCH a sif song. PLEASE hear me out on this (ive no idea if theres an overlap between isat fans and random british ska band fans but if there is then hi!)

putting this under a read more both because its gonna be long and contain spoilers for pretty much the whole deal with ISAT. also apologies if I fail to pick up my autocorrect making me type 'saffron'

okay so. chronologically through the song theres just a Lot that makes me think of him. this may entirely be a reach but im too big a fan of this song to mind :]

'he's walking where I'm afraid I don't know/I see the firemen jumping from the windows/there's panic and I hear somebody scream'-- immediately the sense of disorientation and confusion that goes throughout both the song and siffrin. also the lack of subjects in the last line (who's panicking/screaming?) further gives this sort of like. unanswered questions that I think really fits sif and their whole. deal

'he picks up useless paper and puts it in my pocket'-- this is sif in the sense of how throughout the loops they become far more disillusioned with how much anything really matters. it all starts to pale in comparison to escaping the loop, and this especially resonates with the complete tunnel vision in the final loop. ALSO the inconsistencies in the entire song between first and third person remind me of the recurring ideas of like. identity and losing touch with yourself throughout the game. idk. im not sure if that's the case with the actual meaning of the song but yknow

'he can't remember tell me what's his name'-- themes of identity and memory and losing yourself. yeah.

AND THE CHORUS ITSELF IDK. 'and all I wanted was a word or photograph to keep at home'-- obviously the photograph thing but that's very literal, plus the idea of 'home' both in the song and in ISAT. also the 'all I wanted' alluding to regretting whatever caused the loop? which obviously creates the sense of his wish only being to have some stability and not. Yknow. a massive time loop. but hey ho

'the sun is laughing, it's another broken morning'-- loop. sun/star comparisons to be drawn, and the connotations of 'broken morning' in the context of being forced back to the same morning (or should I say, afternoon? [: ) repeatedly. also the connotations of 'another' as something trapping you/repeating ad infinitum AGH its so siffrin

'I see a shadow and call out to try and warn him, he didn't seem to hear just turned away'-- this reminds me of the whole like. futility of sif not being able to meaningfully help the others and just,,,,, agh,,,

'he had to sacrifice his pride, yes, throw it all away'-- further themes of a loss of an integral part of identity. I see this through the lens of siffrin's attempts to leave the loop becoming more and more desperate to the point of willing to compromise anything (of himself) for escape. fun!!

'his days are numbered, he walks round and round in circles'-- Oh You Know. repetition and never finding escape. siffrin..... aside from the whole time loop deal this line is fun to me in this interpretation of 'his days are numbered' but as the different iterations of the loop growing in frequency as opposed to the traditional use of 'days being numbered'. idk I just love flipping idioms

'there is no place he can ever call his own'-- again the themes of identity and home (or lack thereof). sif having nowhere to return to is suchhh an inciting theme of the whole game and this just completely summarises that. I also especially note the 'very' and how it finalises the whole thing; his country is gone, his memories are gone, and unless Something stops it, his family will be gone as well. I need to lie down.

'staring out the window there's nothing he can do now/all he wanted was to remain sane/he can't remember his own name'-- final verse before the last choruses and dear lord. siffrin. again with just the whole,,, memory and desperation and resignation. one very very reaching bit of analysis here is the shift in pronouns/person between the 'I can't remember tell me what's his name' and 'he can't remember his own name'; the forgetting of the name switches from an external thing that almost doesn't hold much weight to something symbolising a complete loss in self. if I'm then applying this to sif's character arc, I think this really just shows how their relationship with memory becomes more fraught and more of a source of stress throughout the game.

SO!!! I absolutely adore both in stars and time and this song, and just think it fits him so well. do you see my vision

[4kennels]

Happy Tails Grooming

Brett and Mike my “new masters” jumped out of the cab of the pick up truck and come around to the back and open the wire gate of the large pet carrier, cage.

Mike pulls out a leash and attaches it to my collar. The pull me out and tell me to stay on my hind legs until they command otherwise.

As they tug me we walk across the parking lot toward the front entrance of a business called the “HAPPY TAILS GROOMING.” Brett and Michael chat and chuckle along the way as I follow silently behind looking straight ahead, ignoring the murmuring from the milling shoppers who notice our arrival, as best I can.

But come on... this is easily the highest level of humiliation I've ever experienced. I am dressed in a black leather dog collar, a pair of daisy-duke denim shorts, a t-shirt with DAWG printed in large letters. Thevt-shirt has been cropped off just below my pecs, i am wearing flip flops. I am being lead by a noisy silver chain leash.

Then a shout from my left takes the humiliation to another level,

"J. C. Webster? I can't believe my eyes!

J, C. is that you? What happened, dude, bad batch of weed?"

I don't want to look, but it's a reflex thing and I turn my head to the left, effectively confirming that it is indeed me...

Mike says “…yes, it's J.C. Webster almost naked in girl's jean shorts that are so small they don't even cover his bush, dog collar around his neck, and lady's flip flops complete his outfit; lovely!”

I'm also the only individual who isn't wearing a normal shirt or top of some kind. And normal masculine shorts.

Brett: “Yes, it's him... say hi, J.C.”

Oh God! I'll never be able to show my face in Atlanta again. The guy who shouted to me is Neil Bankers, my former next door neighbor at my pre-bankruptcy home. He's shorter than me so I always beat him at one-on-one basketball and afterward I wasn't a good-sport about it either, taunting and mocking him and so forth. So, oh yeah, he'll definitely be happy to spread the news in my old neighborhood about the new me.

He's with his buddy, Dwayne Jackson, who calls over, "Woof, woof, grrrr!" and people, that none of us know, laugh out loud and point me out to those who haven't spotted me yet. That's followed by other mocking catcalls, but my eyes are burning from the heat of my face and there's a hollow echoing in my ears, so I don't register much of what is yelled in my direction. When we finally walk into the dog grooming shop everyone laughs even louder... me wearing a dog collar going into a dog grooming shop...

ha, fucking, ha! Ya know, I can't ever remember seeing Mike enjoying himself this much... ever!

Inside Happy Tails Grooming there are a number of people talking among themselves waiting for their groomed dogs to be brought out to them. All talking stops when we walk in, silently everyone openly stares at me. My entire body is blushing and there's no place to hide. It's deafeningly silent now and I get the most intense urge to adjust my package, but don't dare. In the silence time crawls to a standstill and all I can hear is my heart beating and a noisy- nose-breather who turns out to be an old guy standing to my right.

This old fellow finally touches my shoulder, and asks, "What are you?"

Good question.

I ignore him as a huge bear of a man comes out from behind a door to my right, he's leading a beagle and a collie on leashes. Both dogs obviously have been recently washed and groomed. A booming voice from the man, "Here ya go, Robert. Snooky is beautiful again."

He hands the dog's leash to the rude old man who'd asked me what I was, then the Bear of a man booms out, "Here ya go girls, Icetea is ready to go home," and hands the leash of the beagle to two butch looking ladies who smile and give Barry a thumbs-up. "Please pay at the register ."

Then, to the remaining woman, "Pearl is ready too, I'll get her for you."

Turning to us, He speaks loud enough so everyone can hear, "Let me guess... which one of you needs a wash and a cut," and he laughs in a boisterous, but friendly way, as Brett's saying, "I'm Brett Knight, remember me; Junior's brother?" He takes hold of the leash attached to my collar, and now in a whisper all could hear,

"How could I forget you or your brother, buddy! You boys brought that long haired man to be groomed. Your doggie play is right up my alley. What is your pup’s name?”

Not having named me or called me anything but DAWG, Brett and Mike consider and exchanged options.

Finally Brett said “Fido.”

The big man continued, “This one will take about twenty minutes. Do you want to come back... or do you want to wait."

Brett says, "We'll be back," and they leave.

Barry grins and orders, "Down boy and I'll walk you into the washing station."

I'm so used to getting down when told to, I do it and the person waiting for Pearl gasps, as the big man, who's apparently Barry, is saying, "I'm kidding with you, boy! Get up."

I get up pretending I was kidding too, and follow him inside. Well, what the fuck... he does have me on a leash.

Inside the grooming space there's that unmistakable smell of dogs, and that unpleasant strong smell of the perfume in dog shampoos.

Barry says, "Strip, and I'll lift ya into that big tub at the end so you can soak."

There's a medium size dog in the tub next to the big one, he's looking at me with his ears pointing up.

Naturally I hesitate... I mean, "Get undressed, are you shitting me?" I'm smiling, like I get the joke, but he's sincere this time, and says,

"No, Fido... this time I'm not kidding. Unless bathed properly, I won't groom a dog, no matter from the human species or canine species! And, no offense, but you smell like a toilet."

That goddammed dirty rag Mikey used on me earlier! Still, I'm hesitating because this is so far from real life experiences that it boggles my mind.

He's nice about it when he says, "Make-up your mind, buddy... I've got a lot of grooming to do before eight o'clock tonight. I'm good with this kinky stuff, I'm down with and my boyfriend and I dabble in it ourselves. You'll either go along with Brett's wishes, or you won't... I don't force anything on anybody. You need to want me to do it, before I'll do it. Okay?"

What can I do? Brett and Mike have already gone, maybe Brett didn't know about this naked bath... what the fuck, I'm not going to give him an excuse to whip me again. Resigned once more to my fate, I pull off the flip flops and peel off my t-shirt, saying, "Yeah, let's do it."

Barry takes over and starts to unbutton the daisy dukes. I impulsively attempt to stop it, but he is in control, saying laughingly , "Don't worry, I've seen penises before, on you dogs and even a man or many and, frankly, penises aren't much different from breed to breed."

His eyes briefly get big when he checks me out. This unbelievably embarrassing situation has shrunken my dick to the size it was when Brett swatted it with the fly-swatter. He bites his lip, then real quietly murmurs, "Okay, we got ourselves a real little puppy/baby boy here."

As the color of my blush darkens and spreads to my chest, he puts a large hand at the back of my neck, then stoops down to gets his forearm under my knees and picks me up like I weight five pounds.

'Humiliating' simply doesn't cover it.

Without any noticeable strain, he holds me away from his body and then a boy comes in the backdoor... Barry stands there holding me, smiling at the boy. He's about twelve, a shocked expression on his cute face as it registers that a five foot-eight-inches-tall man with a tiny dick is naked in Barry's arms. There's no apparent fucking end to my humiliation... 'humiliation?" there has to be a stronger word than humiliation to describe this stuation. My whole body turns red.

Barry says, "Oh, hi, Roy. Just a sec, buddy..." as he's taking three steps to the big tub and then sits me in the doggie bath of luke warm water. Roy stares at me like he's just seen a space ship land from outer space, but I can't look back at him. The water I'm sitting in smells strongly of dogs and that peculiar cloying smelling dog shampoo I mentioned earlier. Now I'm surrounded by it as I sit on the bottom of a large dog's bathtub with my knees up and out of the water, water reaching up to my nipples. There are soap suds and other unidentifiable matter floating in the water making it too cloudy for me to see to the bottom. Many different kinds of dog hairs float on top of the water sticking to the suds and to me. The skanky water, the dog hairs, plus the small matter of a twelve year old boy gawking at me sitting naked in a doggie bath, combined to have me on the verge of puking, but I pull myself together. Gravel or something like gravel on the bottom of the tub is prickling at my buttocks, and it's totally gross!

Roy, still staring dumbfounded at me, says, in a monotone voice, "I'm collecting for the newspaper, Barry."

Ignoring Roy, he says to me, "Would ya stand-up for a second, buddy? I gotta grab that bungee cord down there somewhere."

I slowly stand up and Roy gets a second look at my shriveled dick. He looks up at me and I look away, then glance back to see him pointing at my penis, then pulling his hand back to cover his mouth, laughingbquietly. I'm surprised my fucking head doesn't burst into flames I'm so embarrassed.

Barry is clueless, he pulls a bungee cord up from the bottom, saying, "I'm busy now, Roy; can ya ask Steve at the register for the money, I'd appreciate it, honey."

Roy says, "Um, sure... why you washing a man in the big dog tub?"

Barry laughs, and says, "He just wanted to try it, honey... you run along now."

I glance over at him and when he sees me looking he points to my crotch, and then back at me holding his fingers an inch inch apart and I again avert my eyes gasping.

Roy giggles... I hate giggling! He leaves the shop walking out the door Molly and I came through a couple minutes ago. I can hear him saying to someone, Molly's grooming a tall naked man with a one inch teenie weenie." Tears of rage form in my eyes... how much humiliation can one guy take?

Barry is humming a soothing sound, unconcerned about the interruption, he quietly says, "Let's get you secure in here so you can enjoy your soak."

Pulling a thick bungee cord from the other side, under my knees, and then pulling on the cord raising my knees further out of the water, she attaches thebcord to this side. Elevating my knees like that would have dunked me backwards under water except Barry anticipated that and got his big hand behind my neck just in time. He then strings another bungee cord lower, just in front of my ankles, pulling my ankles back and I'm pretty much secured in place.

My face is still hot and red from my encounter with Roy, but logic tells me I'll never see him again in my life so I'm willing myself to put it out of mind. Barry's oblivious to my distress; he sweetly asks, "Can you hold onto the sides for a few minutes yourself, puppy? I'll be right with ya soon as I finish Lance. You just enjoy soaking in there for a while, okay?" He's being very nice about everything, but "COME ON!!" I'm naked in a fucking dog bath, for christsakes, and this place is as busy as Grand Central Station!

Lance is apparently the poodle in the smaller cage. Barry carries him to the grooming table and hooks a slip collar around the pouch's neck, then a bungee cord is stretched just under his belly in front of his hind legs. The dogs been washed and dried already, his white hair very clean looking and fluffy. Barry wastes no effort, everything is done efficiently, but not in a hurried manner.

He likes what he's doing, I guess. Music plays in the background although Barry himself is mostly silent except for calming sounds he makes as he handles the dog. He cups the poodle's snout to manipulates the head as he uses clippers to groom the dog in a typical poodle cut. First the bare clippers get the belly and back and parts of the leg etc. Then, a clippers over comb method is used to evenly cut the longer hair areas. It's a silly looking cut if ya ask me, but it's what the dog's master wants.

Brett left instructions for my grooming too, "Not shaved Barry, but down to the scalp. A buzz cut."

He'd said, "You got it, buddy!" So that's that; and, ya know what... after a while you can accept just about anything. It's like I told Mike..."Boys like Me, who get bullied all the time, begin to accept it and even think they somehow deserve the bullying. Nothing specific, just that they deserve to be dominated and humiliated." That's pretty much where I am now, I guess.

Brett just overwhelms my senses, one outrageous humiliation after another. It's never over and now there's Mike to contend with too, a tag-team match... and as a result, here I am getting groomed at Happy Tails Groomers.

Barry takes about ten minutes with Lance. While he's grooming him, me and the pointy eared dog in the bath next to mine, watch his every move. As I said,

Barry's a large man. He's almost a foot taller than i am and almost three times as wide as I am, with huge hands and thick wrists. Done with Lance, he pets him and is tender with him, cuddling with him like i wish i had someone do me. Lance, contented and happy, yips a couple of times and is then put back into a cage where he immediately lies down and goes to sleep.

Barry pets the pointy eared dog sitting in the bath next to mine and murmurs comforting sounds to him before finishing with, "I gotta do this big puppy first, hope ya don't mind, Butch ," as the dog focuses on Barry's every word, looking alert. Then, before he can begin washing me a bell sounds and he goes out front to see what's up. He's a loud talker out there and I can hear him talking to the owner of her next grooming appointment.

A minute later Barry's back leading another medium size dog, of unknown breed, into the cage next to Lance's. Lance immediately wakes up and the two dogs go about smelling each others asshole through the bars.

Barry plucks the sponge from the tub he washed a dog in earlier, squeezes doggie shampoo onto it, and drops it into my bathtub, saying to me, "Pinch your nose closed, puppy, I'm dunking you under." With unhurried, smooth movements, he places his meaty hand partially behind my neck leaving his thumb over the front of my shoulder, I got my nose pinched closed as he knocks my other hand away from the side of the tank and firmly pulls my torso down dunking my head, shoulders, and chest and stomach into the yucky water. I'm submerged from the top of my head to just above my dick with my thighs, knees, and most of my calves out of the water draped over the bungee cord. I'm holding my breath for all I'm worth with eyes tightly closed. Barry's using the dog-bathing sponge in his left hand to scrub my face and head, then behind my neck and shoulders. Long strokes under my arms and down my sides. He manipulates my body with the one hand shoulder grip and at one point my head comes up near the surface for a second and then is forced down again as the sponge forcefully scrubs my chest. I desperately need to breath and try sitting up using the bungee cords for leverage, but my stomach muscles are no match for Barry's hold on my shoulder. The dog hair and germ infected soapy/shampooie water feels almost greasy and I force myself not to think about it. Barry methodically wipes the sponge over my torso, then reaches under to get my back. A few more swipes over my head and she pulls me up. I come out of the water gasping for oxygen, sputtering and spitting out water that slipped past my lips, "How many dogs get washed in this water before he changes it, anyway?"

But, oh man, it's so wonderful to be able to breathe again. My whole body, covered in dog hairs, is tense as my heart pounds and my chest heaves, but at least there's oxygen available to breathe.

Barry continues to be unconcerned about any of my many distresses; apparently dogs get panicky too and he's used to it. Being sure of his skills he remains calm, quietly making soothing noises and then soothingly says, "You're fine, puppy... no worries. Oh, did Barry keep ya under too long? If I did I'm sorry. Arms out in front, please... and don't worry so much, I've got ya, you're safe."

He squeezes the back of my neck and continues with, "This is fun for me, doing you boy puppies, I mean... and especially one as cute as you. Never fear though, I'm not going to hurt you." He adjust his palm behind my head supporting me and that, plus the way he talks, has a very calming influence on me and there's something trustworthy about him too, so I loosen my death grip on the sides of the tub and hold my arms out in front of me as he requested. Barry uses the sponge to wash up and down both arms, then extra scrubbing on the palms of my hands which are dirty from walking on all fours. Leaning over me he reaches the bottle of doggie shampoo and squeezes another good amount on the sponge, all the time easily holding my head out of the water with his other hand. He says, "Relax, okay? What's your name, cutie?" Falling under his control I all of a sudden feel like a little boy, I squeak out, "J.C. Webster," sounding like a little kid. He goes, "Well, relax, J.C., or maybe i should call you FIDO. I've got control of everything, can't ya tell?" I mumble, "Yes, sir, ah... do you expect anyone else to come through? It's kinda embarrassing." He goes, "Probably not, but what's to be embarrassed about. Roy's seen naked males before, I'm pretty sure."

I'm thinking, "Getting washed and groomed in a dog grooming salon? I don't fucking think Roy's seen that a lot!"

And he says, "What's to be embarrassed about?" Is he out of he fucking mind?! Anyway, he doesn't appear to have a mean bone in his body, plus he has a calmness about him and he's nice, so I lay back against his hand and let my arms float among the dog hairs and, whatever else is floating there, and more or less just surrender myself totally to his care. "Good puppy" he purrs, "Let Barry take care of you. Okay, puppy?"

Now I'm in one of those trances, feeling like I'm in a dream, like I'm floating on air. I'm also getting kinda used to the strong odor of the dogs and their shampoo by now too so I let myself drift off into Barryworld, mumbling, "Sure, it's okay, thanks sir. This is nice." And, this mood he's put me in is nice... he has such a calm manner about him, it's no wonder dogs instinctively trust him. It's peaceful knowing he'll be kind to me too; so different from the way I feel when I'm under Brett's or Mike’s control. Using the sponge, freshly covered in doggie shampoo, he washes my groin area with me opening my legs wide giving his full access to my little pecker and long scrotum, she murmurs, "Good boy, let's get your hiney now, okay?" I go, "Okay, Barry," as he's reaching under me running that sponge back and forth in my crack, them he's rubbing the sponge all over both my bubble butts, then the back of my legs and up to my knees. A few more swipes over my asshole, Barry smiles, and in baby-talk, says, "Let's make sure Barry cleans your bumper real good." I smile back at him as I drift off into space.

He moves to the front of the tub to finish washing me so I again hold onto the sides keeping my head above the dirty water. He washes my calves and then my feet. "You have nice big feet and long toes!" he quietly says, as he's wiggling my big toe. I smile at that too; it's wonderful being under the control of someone who's nice, who's kind. Barry drops the sponge into the tub and takes large nail clippers off a side table. Holding my foot out of the water by cupping the heel in her palm, she cuts my toenails down to the quick. The nail clipper looks like a regular one only stronger with a spring to help cut through tough dog's nails. They cut through my toenails like cutting through nothing at all. Finished with the nail clipping of the first foot, he massages it, digging his thumbs into the arch until it almost hurts, but not quite. When the water presses against the top of my toes it feels funny. I've never had my toenails cut down this far before; the sensations of the water against new toe areas is strange. He finishes with my other foot and is now holding one of my wrist in his large hand cutting my fingernails the same way he did my toenails. After he cuts them, my fingernails are so short only the pink part remains, looking like they have pale pink nail polish on them.

Finished both hands, he unhooks the front bungee cord and casually picks me out of the water, his arms under my knees and his other meaty hand behind my neck; I like the way Barry's carrying me. It's like I weight nothing at all and I feel like putting my arms around his neck the way I did with my daddy when I was a toddler... but I don't.

Looking back at the tub and the dirty water, I see my finger nails floating on top of the water mingling with the dog hairs. Dog's toenails are probably dense enough to sink slowly to the bottom of the tub and could be the prickly things I sat on when first put into the doggie bathtub. "Pinch your nose again, puppy. We've going for a dip in the rinsing tank." It's a large deep plastic container that looks like a small above-ground pool. I pinch my nose with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut tight, like a three year old might do before being dunked in the pool by his mommy, "Wheeeee!" He dips me in, totally submerging me with water up to his muscular shoulders. Then up out of the water, then right back down into the water again. Pulling me out entirely now, me dripping with water, still some dog hairs clinging to me, but cleaner ones this time. Thinking this wasn't all that bad, I wipe the water out of my eyes and open them to see two girls and a guy come in the same back door Roy used. All of them are about twenty years old, maybe a year or two older. The girl points at me, and says, "Oh my God! What the hell, Uncle Barry? Ya taking in the homeless now?"

They all laugh nervously as Barry's setting me on the drying table. I'm on all fours because that's the way she set me down. My dick shrinks even more, to a bare nub, and my face is glowing red, the heat on my shoulders is uncomfortable... all from my blush. The three unexpected guests slowly walk around the tank to get a better look, as Barry says, "Oh, hi, Cheryl. Cover your eyes, honey, or you'll embarrass FIDO."

Barry's hooking me up the same way he did with the poodle; a slip collar around my neck, pulled tight. I'm comatose by now and anything anyone says sounds like a repeating echo. I look straight down at the table top without moving a muscle, hoping perhaps if I don't move no one will notice me. Barry's movements continue to be unhurried and efficient, and as he stretches a bungee cord under my belly down near my groin and another one over the back of my knees, he says,

"He not a homeless person, just one of you college kids goofing around with some friends... a dare of some kind. A kinky dare and you know me and kinky, don'cha, Cheryl. We go together like bread and butter."

I can't move forward or backward, completely immobilized and my brain is frozen, while my body's on fire. Each second feels like an hour!

Molly takes what looks like a Q-tip, but larger, and swabs inside each of my nostrils, I try to move my head but the collar just tightens on my neck, my head barely moves.

He goes, "It's okay, relax, FIDO," then to Cheryl, "What can I do for ya, honey?" Cheryl's beside her uncle now; to entertain her two friends she's straining her neck taking an exaggerated look under me at my almost non-existent dick. Without answering Barry, Cheryl directs a question at me instead, "Did you have an accident with your penis, or something? And your bag of nuts, what do ya call that? It's long." One of the boys says, "Scrotum, Cherly... it's the god-damnest scrotum I ever saw." The boy and the other girl come over to peer at it. The other boy says, "I knew a kid in high school who had an infantile penis like this, but not this small." Then to me, he asks,

"Whadda you do, lay across the toilet when ya gotta pee?" Barry's like, "Shhh, enough of that naughty talk! You'll hurt his feelings." In my head I'm counting to one thousand as fast as I can blocking out whatever these horrible college students are saying. Around one hundred I lose count and hear the first boy say,

"Uncle Barry, come on, we wouldn't embarrass anyone for the world, but that scrotum is destined for the carnival. You know, pay an extra dollar to see the world record holder for longest scrotum behind the curtain." Cheryl's persistent with her question, and she reaches over to poke my one inch dick, asking me again, "What happened?" I couldn't talk, I'm only capable of making whiny sounds as Barry says, "Okay, Cheryl your friends are embarrassing him now. Stop it! Look how red he is right down to his bumper. What can I do for you?"

As he's chastising Cheryl for embarrassing me, he inserts a thumb into my mouth and pinching either side of my jaw bone with her other hand forcing my mouth to open, then plugs it open with a rubber stopper and checks inside with a penlight. The three college students snicker and talk quietly behind their hands, then laugh in bursts. Barry clicks on a large electric tooth brush and brushes my gums and teeth with it, as Cheryl's going, "Ewwwww. Do you use that on the dogs?" Molly says, "Enough, Cheryl! Why are you here?" Cheryl giggles, then asks, "Can we borrow your Jeep for a few hours? We'll have it back by the time you close." Cheryl's right... the toothbrush is undoubtedly the same toothbrush she uses on the fucking dogs; why would she have one for humans? This, the college kids and the doggie toothbrush, is really too much and puke rushes up from my stomach. I gag stopping the puke at the back of my throat as

Barry recognizes the situation and forces my head back and up at an awkward angle, stopping the vomit from getting into my mouth. "Now you've upset him, Cheryl. Don't be such a bitch, okay." He said it in a sweet way though, not angry, as he continues the dental hygiene part of my grooming. As the big dog toothbrush twirls on my teeth at the back of my mouth, near my throat, I gag repeatedly but he has my head totally immobilized and, as usual, ignores my discomfort. "Okay Cheryl, you know where the keys are," then to the boy "Artie, would you hold his head in this position for me a second, I need to get a tool to scrap some tartar off his back molars. Artie laughs, but says, "Yeah, sure," and grabs my head twisting it further up, neither of us speaks as Barry scrapes my back teeth with something that feels like a chisel, then sprays water from a bottle into my mouth and a doggie mouthwash refreshes my breath.

Barry looks inside my mouth with the penlight again, as Artie says to no one invparticular, "This is without question the oddest goddamn thing I've ever seen," and everyone, including Barry, has a good chuckle over that. Just when I'm positive my ass is going to catch on fire with humiliation Barry tells Artie he can let go of my head, he gives one painful final push up and then releases me.

I've a pounding headache now and the vomit's right at the back of my throat. Barry says, "Hey, he's just a curious kid who wonders how a dog feels getting groomed. Go on all of you now, let me finish up with this big boy." Then it all caught up with me and I did throw up in my mouth... not a good thing. Little by little I swallow the puke at the back of my throat as Barry pets my head making some of those soothing sounds he'd made while grooming the poodle, as the three uninvited guests leave, giggling and laughing out loud, Barry says, "Sorry about that, J.C., but you don't need to be embarrassed. You can't help it if you have a one inch dick." As if that's accurate or is all there is to it! Good grief, he's awfully nice but out of touch. Come to think of it, I guess he'd need to be out of touch to dog groom a college student.

Molly, with me still secured to the drying table, goes through a series of massages and rubs that, along with her soothing voice, manages to calm me down. They're nobody here but me and Barry now and that's such a relief! Barry murmurs, "That's a good boy,"as he goes back to work, this time swabbing my right ear with one of those big q-tips, then the other ear. Throwing the swabs away, he gets a larger one, dips it in some cream and walks behind me to swab out my asshole. My body jerks, and he quietly says, "Almost done," as the swab twirls inside my hole,

Then further up until it's twirling on my prostate making my dick twitch and was really arousing me. I was breathing heavily

“With puppies we have to expess the dogs anal glands. Is puppy okay?

I was starting to drooling and approaching an orgasm when out comes the swab and into the trash it goes.

It's all so mind-blowingly bizarre, but it feels good and we're along so I fall back into a serene trance... so grateful I'll never see any of those college kids again. It's peaceful and I'm grateful for that. Ripping open a sterile pad, Molly pours something from a brown bottle on it, then reaches under me and pull back the foreskin of my little cock to wipe the head with the pad. I hop a half inch off the table and he gently pats my ass, making those calming sounds again.

Turning his finger over, he wipes inside my foreskin all the way around, the liquid feels cold. "That's a good puppy," he coos, as she tosses the sterile pad in the trash. Patting my head, he quietly says, "I'll get you dry and then you're ready to be groomed." Flicking a switch on what looks like the world's biggest hairdryer causes it to nosily blows a huge amount of warm air over me. It's like being in a wind tunnel. As my body dries, the doggie hairs stuck to me dry as well and are, one by one, blown off my skin and up against the back wall to drift down joining other dog hairs on the floor from earlier washings.

As I'm being dried, Barry washes Butch, who has patiently waited in that medium size tub next to the one I was in. Butch observed every move Barry made while washing me and when he picked me up and brought me to the rinsing station the dog moved to the other side of his tub and watched every move Barry made there too. Butch now gives all his attention to Barry as he's bathing him. The dog's infatuated with Barry apparently, and so am I. He washes him just like he did me except the dog is only about one sixth my size and he doesn't tense-up like I did, so it went much faster. Then Butch is dipped in the rinsing tub and hooked up next to me in a similar manner to the way I'm hooked up. As soon as the dog is set down he shakes his body spraying me with rinse water, but the wind tunnel soon dries that too. I'm quickly as dry as I've ever been in my life, but the warm air continues blowing on me as Barry's busy doing something else. He's carrying a large sheep dog from the end cage to the washing tub, basically doing everything the same way he'd handled me; the dog and I weigh about the same. Barry sits him in the same larger tub I'd recently been bathed in, then hooks him up with two bungee cords so he can't jump out; he's just as immobile as I'd been. Only the top of his back, his tail, and his head are out of the water as he stands docilely, with an expression of almost embarrassment on his face.

My turn again... the wind tunnel is turned off and a smaller version of it is turned on for Butch. Barry unhooks me, picks me up with one arm under my buttocks and the other across my chest and again without apparent effort, carries me to the same grooming table he'd groomed the poodle on. Same routine of a slip collar around my neck tightly, then one bungee cord stretched under my belly near my dick, and one across the back of my knees. I'm totally immobilized once again. Snapping on the same clippers he used on the poodle,Barry takes hold of my jaw and easily manipulates by head this way and that as he runs the doggie clippers over my head. First across the front above my forehead and the half inch long hairs from there fall past my eyes followed quickly by another bunch of short hairs sheared to the scalp by the clippers.

He bends my head way over to the side and shears the very short hairs from there down to the back of the head. Bending my head to the side and to the left he runs the clippers up one side of the back of my head, then again, and again as I feel the short clippings falling on the back of my neck and shoulder. He goes over all areas on this side of my head one more time, pressing the clipper tightly against my scalp. Running his fingers over half my shorn head he goes back over a number of spots with the clippers, just to be sure. The same procedure for the other side of my head and I'm as docile for him as the sheep dog or poodle had been. Satisfied, the clippers snap off and he brushes the clipped hairs off me using a big soft brush that smell strongly of... what else, dogs.

"Okay, puppy, you've just got a shadow of hair left on your head. I could lather it and take the shadow off with a straight razor but Brett wants it like this for now." He's unhooking me as he's talking, then picks me up the same way as before; I'm as docile for him as I've ever been in my life. He says, "It will upset the dogs if you're standing around while I wash and groom them so I'll put you in a cage until Brett comes for you, it won't be long," and he. opens the door to the cage he just took the big sheep dog from and I crawled inside, my dick peeking out from it's hiding place as I get more comfortable with being under Barry's control. My long scrotum hangs down as I look out through the bars of my cage watching Barry wash the sheep dog. He's calmly and quietly murmuring many of the same things to him that he'd murmured to me.

Lance is two cages down, he picked his head up momentarily when I went inside my cage, but then he went back to sleep. I actually feel like a dog, wish I was one and Barry was my owner.

Much longer than 'just a few minutes' passes as I watch Barry finish the sheep dog's bath by dipping him in the rinsing tank. After hooking him up in front of the drier, the front bell sounds. "That'll probably be your mast..., er, I mean, Brett. He's come for you FIDO, let me check. When Barry's in the reception area he's much different than back here with us dogs. Here he's quiet and calm, out front he's loud. I easily hear him say, "Of course he's ready, honey. He was ready twenty minutes ago... I've got him in a cage. That'll be twenty-five dollars, pay the cashier."

I'm thinking, "Twenty five dollars! I gotta pay for this?" I'm out of my trance now and feeling claustrophobic in this cage.

In the lobby, Barry's saying, "He's got a lot of razor nicks on him. I could shave him and groom him professionally for ya weekly, without razor nicks, but that'll cost forty-five dollars."

I can barely hear Brett ask, "Every week?" and Barry's like, "Yeah, I had a regular customer pass away so I got this time spot open, but it needs to be every week or it's not worth it to me." Brett asks Mike, "What do you think? We'll deduct the money from his paycheck of course. Barry could bath him, groom him and shave him every Monday." Mike’s like, "Awesome idea! And while he's at the groomers, we can go to a movie.”

Brett like, "Sure, Mike,"

then to Barry, "Book him in for Mondays at four-thirty."

He's saying, "He's a doll or I wouldn't accept him as a regular, but with him it's doable."

So, my fate's sealed for this treatment every week, more then this treatment, he'll be shaving my legs and balls, and whatever. The word 'mortified!' doesn't adequately describe my state of mind right now. But, what’s new.

Barry comes in and lifts me out of the cage and then without thinking he starts carrying me outside, and I scream, "My clothes!" As he's putting me down, he laughs and says, "Oh, I forgot. Most of my clients don't wear clothes. Hope you enjoyed your spa treatment. And guess what... you're gonna be a regular!

I'll see ya next week." He's expecting I'll be thrilled about that. Oh, what the hell, he's a nice person so I'm not taking it out on him, it's not his fault. I say, "Yeah, that's really something," and he looks at me funny, like I'm not appropriately enthused, so I add, "You did a wonderful job. Thank you!"

He looks pleased now and my eyes get a little teary because he's gentle and nice to me and nobody else has been either of those things lately. I turn my head away and start over for my clothes, but Barry takes hold of my arm, and says, "Could you let me check something before you get dressed, honey?" I go, "Ah..." and I look at the door leading to Brett, and ask, "Ya think it'll be okay with with Brett?" He waves at the door, and says, "It'll only take a minute or two, he can wait. Let me get you up there on the table a sec, okay?"

Before I can answer, he casually picks me up with a hand under each arm pit, saying, "I wanna see what kind of a razor situation we have here so that I'm ready for you next Monday." He holds me over the table in a way that makes me bend my knees and I just naturally get on all fours. He smacks my ass saying, "Can you get over a little, honey?" I crawl over thinking, "He don't know his own strength. Jesus! That smack on my ass was harder and stings more than a paddle hitting me!" He mumbles "I'll make it quick, sweetie," as he's putting the slip collar over my head again and adjusts the bungee cords, immobilizing me. Force of habit, probably.

It's amazing how incapacitated a few taut bungee cords can make you. Barry's behind me spreading my buttocks and feeling between my legs, "Just want to see how extensive the shaving areas are." His big hands wrap around the front of my thighs, up next to my dick, "Feeling for stubble," he says, and I go, "But I don't shave there". His hand travels down my thigh then back up. He says, "I can feel you haven't been shaving here, but there are fine, almost invisible hairs here that need to be shaved if one's to do the job properly; I'll get them for you, I'm a professional." Then he's spreads his fingers wide and feels along my back and shoulders and then down my sides until fingers on either side of me are traveling down my dick, then back up lifting it as a finger feels along the underside of it. He then goes back to spreading my butt cheeks, saying, "I'll shave around your heiny hole too for the same reason; fine hairs."

A shudder goes through me then as the realization of how little control of my life I have... he telling me what he's going to do, not asking if I want it done. Barry's a very nice person, but it's apparent he's aware of the master/slave relationship that Brett and Mike have me in and that's the reason he's so comfortable taking control of me; that reason, plus he's used to always being in control of his dogs. But, come on, this is abject humiliation of the worse kind, and with Barry I don't even get to enjoy the sexual action I get from the boys when they're abusing me. But, as always, I come back to this:

"What the fuck can I do about it?" The answer to that question, at this time is,

"Nothing!" except make the best of it and cooperate so it goes as easily as it's possible to go under the circumstances.

As I contemplate my humiliating situation, Barry's adjusting the bungee cords, then he gets both hands on my hips and turns me over onto my back. The slip collar tightens around my neck for a second, but he adjusts that, then spreads my legs wide so that each ankle is held in place somehow by the bungee cord arrangement. Next he spreads and tucks my arm under bungee cords and I'm spread eagle on the table feeling totally on display. As he lifts my cock, he says, "I'll be shaving you on your back like this for the most part, and finish the job with you on all fours. In order to insure you don't make sudden movements causing me to nick you with the razor, you'll be secured like this." Everything he says is in a matter of fact manner, knowing neither the dogs nor me will complain or contradict him. He's totally in charge of us. "You'll find it's a pleasant experience. I have had it done to myself by a friend a few years ago, so I speak from personal experience." With a couple of fingers he's feeling around my dick, then down my scrotum to lightly squeeze my balls, then his fingers are under my balls, and finally he pulls my scrotum up, and says, "I see Brett's stretching your scrotum for ya. If you want I can pierce this and insert a nice ring or stud. You think about it, okay. That'll cost eighty-five dollars, but is well worth it." I make a noncommittal grunt because I don't want to hurt his feelings; he's nice, but the last thing I want is a stud in my stretched scrotum. I'm going to be enough of a freak having a foot long scrotum as it is. That's how long it'll be by the time Brett's through with me. After rubbing all around my belly and chest, Barry starts unhooking the bungee cords, saying, "You don't have much noticeable body hair, just the fine ones everybody has, but I like you so I'll be giving you pretty much a full body shave. Once you see how it feels to be shaved you'll want to do it all your life." I say, "Not my head though, right?" Barry lifts me down, and says, "That's up to Brett, honey... not me. If ya ask him nicely, maybe he'll let you keep the fuzzy hair you got on your head now." I feel my scalp and can just detect a fine sandpaper feel... boy, it's short alright. As I get dressed he turns his attention to the sheep dog. I say, "Bye. Barry," as I'm leaving, and he goes,

"Bye, puppy. See ya, next Monday."

[williamisahotmurderer]

Dates - michael afton

a/n: I am literally writing this in bed when I'm supposed to be asleep. I have school tmrw after the winter break but this scenario came to my mind so since I couldn't sleep I just decided to write it. Anyways, enjoy!

You and michael were both lying in bed together. You had been together for 3 years and you couldn't have been more grateful for him.

The two of you had met during school. He was the cold hearted player who would find a new girl to date every week just to break their hearts.

You couldn't lie, he was quite attractive but his personality had ruined it. A few months passed and he had suddenly changed.

Stopped dating and rejected anyone who asked him out, and you noticed that he had started to glance more at you than normal.

You shrugged it off thinking nothing of it when he had came up to one day after one of your shared classes.

'Go out with me'

Tou were shocked. The Michael Afton never asked anyone out, no matter what.

'No'

'Why not y/n?'

'Because I know how you are. You're gonna date me for like a week or something then break my heart. You're quite know around for that'

'But I haven't dated anyone in months. Please y/n, one date and I will leave you alone after if you want me to'

You were contemplating whether you should or shouldn't. On one hand he was extremely attractive but on the other he was a heartbreaker. A player.

'... you know what, fine. We can go on a date. Pick me up on Thursday at 5. I'm choosing the place'

His face lit up, 'I promise you are not going to regret this y/n.'

When Thursday came around, michael had picked you up at 5 and you ended up choosing to go to a skating rink.

The two of you had fun together on your date and you really got to know the real michael. Surprisingly enough, you felt calm around him, like yourself.

After that night, michael had taken you on more dates. Overtime, you had really fallen for him and his charms. The entire cold-hearted bad boy persona all dissipated when the two of you were together.

You two had recently went on another date. This time it was at a diner (not his fathers) that he had claimed was amazing and many people recomend.

Nearing the end of your date, you had taken a hold on Michael's hand.

'Michael, these dates have been amazing and probably the most fun I've had in a while. I feel like ive gotten to know the real you and who you truly are and if you want to, I'm willing to give us a chance.'

He stared at me wide-eyed.

'Oh my, are you serious? You actually want me to be your boyfriend?'

'Yes michael. I do.' He stutters trying to find words. Instead, he gently cups my face and presses his lips to mine.

I kiss back after a few seconds, smiling into the kiss.

'Does this mean we're officially dating?' I ask him.

'Of course it does dumbass.' He kisses me again.

It's been 3 years since that day and everyday has been amazing, so full of love and passion.

I am so glad that I had said yes to that date despite his reputation. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have know how wonderful my life had been with him.

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

Okokokok so im meant to be paying attention in class BUT-

Imagine cTechno who makes little wood animal statues, like those wooden bears. He started during his retirement, wanting to do something other then jewellery making and horse riding. He first attempted to make a crow statue for Phil which looked less then stellar. His work still isn't the best as he's still learning but it's got that 'so ugly that its cute' sort of look. His most recent one was a butchered up looking chicken for Michael, which has become his favourite thing.

Oooh yes I love that!

I bet he probably picked up a whole host of little crafting and other hobbies during that time, to keep himself busy adjusting to the more slow and quiet life style

And I've also actually dabbled in whittling little figure-things before and ofc I will take any chance to shove elements of my own life into my blorbos, so I am just adopting this into my internal canon now

[beastsovrevelation]

TAG GAME

Tagged by @islemeadow . Thank you so much! ❤

Last song: Sparta by Sabaton

Fav colour: Hard to say. When it comes to clothes, black of course. But, in general, black, dark reds, dark greens, golden, silver, white, grey, some shades of pink, purple and blue... I appreciate then all for different reasons, in various contexts.

Currently watching: At the moment? A video about Biblical monsters. For the record, yes, the random comment in Greek letters is mine. As for shows, I'm in the "wondering what to watch" situation right now.

Last movie: The Nun II, I think. I've re-watched it a lot lately.

Currently reading: The Iliad. And, St. Augustine's Confessions. Both for uni. I had also picked up Livy's Punic Wars, but set it aside for now.

Current obsession: The Antichrist, demons, and Biblical Mythology in general (especially everything to do with Eschatology). Yeah, that's... Not a soothing hobby in the current times. AHS: Apocalypse, which I recently, finally, watched for the previous reasons. And, Warrior Nun. Archangel Michael x The Antichrist ship dynamic. In my original work, and fanfictions. Michael is usually male, and the Antichrist is female, but I've developed a couple of ideas where it's the reverse.

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy: Savoury, and spicy.

Current game: I've never gotten into gaming. Does Gardenscapes count?..

Relationship status: Single

Last google: Something about 3rd declension latin nouns.

Currently working on: Fanfiction-wise? I have a few WIPs, too many for my own good. Sanguis Tenebrarum and Age of Angels are my only WIPs currently published (and I am picking at Ch3 of Sanguis). But, I've been also working on my Warrior Nun Biblical AU. And, my AHS ideas. One, is the Millory arranged marriage thing. The other, is Michael Langdon x OC. Her name is also Michael. You know, the Archangel. You guessed that by now, didn't you?.. They are supposed to marry in the end, if only for the punchline.

Tagging: @horror-blog-78 , @nocakesformissedith , @tisdae , @warriorgay07 , @onceuponaweirdo . No pressure, only if you want to!

[phant0m-l0rd]

thank u @minuutti for the tag <3 (finally getting around to it :D)

what book are you currently reading?

I'm still reading Moby Dick even though I started it months ago, simply because I unintentionally took a big break from it at one point (and read a few other books). also reading Agir et Penser Comme Un Chat by Stéphane Garnier and Le Voleur d'ombres by Marc Levy.

what’s your favourite movie you saw in theatres this year?

I went to the cinema a few weeks ago for the first time in over 4 or 5yrs. therefore, the only movie I've seen in theatres in all these years is the new Mario movie so that's my pick by default (it was fun though).

what do you usually wear?

jeans, shirt. + a hoodie if it's cold.

how tall are you?

175cm/5'9

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

cancer! my 11th birthday was the day Michael Jackson passed away and I remember how depressing that was.

do you go by your name or a nickname?

just my name, it's too short to nickname. some friends try to give me nicknames but they almost always end up longer or the same length as my name lol

did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

I think so yes, I don't see how it could've gone any other way tbh!

are you in a relationship? if not, who is your crush if you have one?

no, and I do have a crush but will not reveal it publicly like that lol

what’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

cooking vs. stress management

dogs or cats?

both are amazing but I love cats sm and desperately need one

if you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favourite picture/favourite line/favourite etc. from something you created this year?

so far it has to be the most recent digital art I made of Kyo just cuz I feel like I've finally started getting the hang of digital art even though my comfort zone still lies in traditional art.

what’s something you’d like to create content for?

nothing specific, just anything I'm interested in in the moment.

what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

this is really fkn random coming from me but. watching baseball. I've never been a sports person, never watched sports except during world cups or the olympics. but ever since a few days ago I've found a new hyperfixation I guess, completely unexpectedly and out of my control 😭

what’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

idk tbh, can't think of anything rn. I haven't been that excited for anything lately.

what’s a hidden talent of yours?

I can mimick trumpet sounds well? 😭

are you religious?

not really, I don't follow a specific religion

what’s something you wish to have at this moment?

for all my anxieties to be alleviated so I can finally live a normal life again.

tagging @ranuunculus , @cupofteaandstars (no pressure ofc) and anyone else who feels like it :D ~

[autisticempathydaemon]

I've never done something like this but wanted to give it a go!

-Fixated on Live Cinema by Ellie Williams. The last section of the song starting at "Oh the time stops / I look at you" to the end hits me hard, but especially the last few lines. "I've seen movies / I've watched cartoons / But / We've got an alternate ending"

-Enneagram Type 2

-I am quite the fan, yes~! I really loved Izzyzzz's Dark Pokémon Iceberg videos. I'm still a Pokémon novice so getting all this niche lore was fascinating

-I didn't have one </3

-Either ASMR Roleplay playing or simply thinking about my characters until I pass out /lh

-The full version of my chosen name stems from a character I related to prior to realizing I was autistic. I didn't understand that that was why I was connecting to him, but the character was what I needed at the time. The nickname from it is short and sweet and it's also fun watching people try to guess what it's short for

-Honestly, what I consider the three "Huxley/Damien" videos. The confession, them telling the rest of the DAMN squad, and the solstice video. They're easily one of my favorite pairings and seeing their relationship is just something that fucks me up every time /pos

-I hate to say it but I think I gotta go with Marcus. No shade but at most, I appreciate his contribution to Project Meridian's plot but nothing more </3 /lh

-Probably The Truman Show. Random as fuck, I know, but I watched it religiously for like a month to fall asleep a few years ago. (Or for something a little more recent, maybe Don't Hug Me I'm Scared?)

-Camelopardalis!

-Either my own characters or Redacted 95% of the time. The other 5% is stream of consciousness bullshiting /lh

-Gummy worms, chili cheese Fritos, and a fruit flavored soda of some kind

-Either my Romantic Mix or Moody Mix made by Spotify

-Probably Homestuck or Beastars. I'm not really embarrassed of either at this point because of how much I enjoy them, but people tend to react weird when I tell them I'm a genuine fan so /lh

-Uuuuuuuh my love language is quality time, I've attempted to learn 17 languages with varying degress of success, and Achilles Come Down is my favorite song of all time

I'm really interested in who you'll pair me with because I've got a few top picks! (Also love the energy you bring to this fandom <3 /pos)

Everything about you kind of screams Romantic™️. It’s not just the playlists you listen to but also being a Quality Time kind of person and being a Type 2. It also screams Perfect for David™️.

First things first, we love A4A (Autistic 4 Autistic), and the headcanon that David is autistic means the world to me. Parallel play with him would be fantastic- peace, calm, and David shifted because I can’t imagine there’s a better weighted blanket in the world than a werewolf.

I also think David would be the perfect person to infodump to (if you do that). He’d be a grump at first, like, “who the fuck is Red Guy, and why do we care so much about his fuckin dad”, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t watch every episode and every theory video with you. He hums “The Creativity Song” while doing chores because you legitimately got it in his head and because he likes the way you light up when he engages with your interests.

Song:

And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times/ It's you, it's you, you make me sing/ You're every line, you're every word, you're everything

This song is cheesy and sappy as all get out, and David has held you in the kitchen and danced as it played. (You have it on video, and David has sworn to make rue the day you ever share it /lh)

Runner-Ups:

So I also really liked Sam and Avior for you for different, respective reasons. I think Sam is a big romantic; like David, he just hides it. I get this curious, thoughtful vibe from you that I think Avior would really get along with. In the end, the autism won, and that’s how we celebrate autism acceptance month /pos

Note: I can’t wait to watch a dark Pokémon lore video I love icebergs explained! Jokes on all of you this was a long convoluted way to get video essay recs /j

Want a match-up of your own? Read this post, and tell me about yourself! 💌

[ratthumbsup]

5, 15, and 25! if u haven’t already answered

whoa hi madeleine thank you!!

5. TV show of the year?

i already mentioned barry for episode of the year but it's definitely my show of the year, too. man that show is awesome and the ending ruled. nobody is doing it like bill hader.

15. What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

every time i go out i need a little coffee 😬 i need a little treat. i've discovered cinnamon honey oat milk lattes (sometimes called cafe miel?) just recently and i'm never going to drink anything else, sorry to my wallet,

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

yes! my original character in a megadungeon based game i play in died this year so i made a new guy! her chosen name is striga (which to everyone who ever meets her means "witch, the evil kind that hexes you") and she's unsettling and weird and does the michael myers head tilt when something fucked up happens in front of her. she's her blind old nonna's specialist granddaughter, the most special of 13 :) (she's a hexblade* warlock to a hag). she's nuts.

*with some alterations

[boguskudos]

Nine People You'd Like To Get To Know Better

thank you @peachyspaceslvt for tagging me!!!!

nine people is a lot @kat-stratfords-ponytail @girlfriendsofthegalaxy @elaborateheists @books-plays-and-tv @raggedyfaggot @definitionsfading @goodlookingforagirl @silvrsabl @jacklefay also anyone else who wants to pls!!!

➠ last song: That's Amore by Dean Martin I've definitely become more of a Dean girl in my later, old crone years (turning 30 next year) also trying to learn Italian, so am listening to a lot of italian music (dean martin)

➠ last show/movie: show: it's always sunny in philadelphia

movie: in the middle of LOTR the first one bc i have never seen them

➠ currently watching: shadow and bone my husband asked if i wanted to go as alina and mal for halloween and i said i wanted to be kaz and he said i was wylan :(

➠ currently reading: i have been terrible at reading lately i started both of these on a plane and have not touched them since

yes please by amy poehler AND me by elton john

i was recently gifted a beast boy comic that i intend to start soon? and no time like the future my michael j fox which i also intend to start soon....

➠ current obsession: pretending to be normal at work killing caeser irl/fnv baseball! my Straight Guy interest is sports and fantasy baseball starts this month (if you wanna start a league hit me up) my favorite part is drafting bc i like judging people, my secret strategy is always pick nelson cruz and max kepler

that was fun! looking forward to seeing other peoples posts

forreal if you feel like "oh that doesn't include me" yes it does and now u have to do it (unless you don't want to)

[unholyhelbig]

Are you going to post the vampire fic here? PLS SAY YES

A/n: Oh dude, I've got you.

Summary: Bodies start popping up within the city drained of blood and torn at the throat. Detective Ava Silva and her new partner Beatrice Alexander are determined to crack the case before more victims are discovered. But when recent technological advancements threaten how things are done, Beatrice has to put more trust in her partner than ever before.

Trigger warning: This is quite possibly the darkest thing I've ever written. So please be cautious with this. There's a lot of gross imagery with the crime scenes.

[Also, I added a "The Nice Guys" reference in there, extra points if you can spot it.]

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Request Prompts

Read the First Chapter here

The Blood Ties that Bind | Chapter Two | Ava x Beatrice

It was a common misconception that Vampires could see better in the dark. Yes, Beatrice viewed the world without light through a gray haze that was often mimicked on a camcorder, but if one did not know the obstacles they would face in said, pitch area, then it was hardly effective. She was thankful for the pulsing red light of the exit sign.

Beatrice kept to the far side of the hallway where the span of the cameras didn’t reach. She’d feigned interest in the security system that Michael Salvius had installed a few weeks before. He regarded her icily, mumbling under his breath. He figured that she was mocking him, and she placed a soft hand on his shoulder.

She told Michael Salvius that his job was important. That without the Salvius security systems, they would be shit out of luck on most of their cases. The footage was always grainy, way too distorted by the city's rain to make anything out. But she sat on the edge of the desk and smiled at him while he installed the new tech.

It had disturbed her, to a degree, the way in which the world was changing. She remembers the distinct feeling of whiplash she got when she saw her first automobile. This surely won’t catch on, she naively thought.  And for a time, it hadn’t. But soon they were rushing through the streets, not just for the rich, but for everyone.

Cameras, she figured, would be the exact same way as cars, as planes, and chewing gum. The world was prone to rushing around her and she wouldn’t notice one way or another until times like these when it hit her all at once. Allusivity was swiped away by bulky wires and hard drives.

She’d watched Michel out of curiosity, but was thankful now, that she had. It made getting into the lab in the basement of the precinct all the easier. Though, Beatrice wasn’t sure if the cameras could pick up her slinking form in the deep red light of the exit sign. She stopped directly across from the door to the lab and waited until the cherry-red color faded.

Then, she took a large step across the hall and broke the knob off the door entirely with one flick of the wrist. It was much like a bone, that way, a metal contraption that came apart so easily under her movements. Beatrice pushed her shoulder into the door and entered the darkness of the lab.

Death was a familiar scent to her. It wasn’t one that she used to describe herself or her kind. No, they were wrought with the earth tones of soil and leaden blood. The odor of decay on a normal, once-breathing, human body was different. It tickled the back of her throat with hints of vanilla and the acrid hum of formaldehyde.

The dead lined the wall of the morgue behind little metal doors like picture frames. Each was meticulously labeled with a sharpie. A series of numbers following the first three letters of a last name. Beatrice instinctively spotted PAL86 and kept her eyes on the darkness of the drawer.

Part of her believed that he would push it open, that his milky eyes would open the world and she would be the one that had to break it to him: Apologies for your death, you see, a girl that I promised to teach how to live is desperate to do so herself. Mistakes happen.

Richard “Barry” Palmer would not be rising from the dead. That wasn’t how things worked. But just like the advancement of automobiles and security systems, this too could change. Not tonight, though. Not while she strode past a large exam table and opened the cooling chamber for samples.

A bright white light nearly blinded her before she had the thought to place her finger over the sensor and plunge herself back into that granular darkness. Beatrice swore under her breath. Ava hadn’t been kidding, law enforcement was wising up. They saved everything. Small vials filled with hair samples, fingernail clippings, fibers from the carpet saturated in brown blood.

She didn’t have much time, if the flash of light from the cooler had triggered the patrol officer damned to the security room, then she was fucked. Good and fucked. There was no logical way for her to explain why she had not only ripped the doorknob from its place but why she had rummaged through the fridge like she was up for a midnight snack.

Beatrice spotted two tubes labeled with PAL86. She didn’t hesitate to slip them into the pocket of her peacoat. She closed the cooler, careful with the light this time, and turned on her heel to exit the lab. Again, she waited for the pulsing light of the exit sign at the end of the hallway before she hastily made it to the stairwell, breathing a cool sigh of relief.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. She got in and out quickly, quietly, like the shadow that she was derived from. She hadn’t risked her position as a lead detective. She’d simply looked out for her own. And was that so bad? Ava was sure to thank her later, if later ever came along.

“Detective Alexander?”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Beatrice had made it to the second stairwell. She instinctively tightened her fingers around the cold vials in her pocket and turned to face the medical examiner whom she had met on a few occasions. Her hair was sleep-worn, and a single eyebrow was raised in a questioning glance. She wore her coat over a buttoned pajama top.

“Doctor Amunet” Beatrice gave an easy smile. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I assume for the same reason as you.”

“Oh?”

Yasmine Amunet’s gaze was mild, her eyes the color of cold bourbon. She rubbed the corner of one, taking the sleepy haze right with it. “Nothing worse than being woken up by a corpse call in the middle of the night. I just have to grab my supplies and I’ll be headed down to the wharf.”

“Of course,” Beatrice swallowed hard. She prayed absently that Yasmine wouldn’t flick on the lights and notice the busted knob on the door to her lab. That the bag she was often seen with was subsequently in the office instead. “Would you like to go together? Two birds. One stone. That sort of thing.”

This was a solid play. Yasmine’s eyes lit up and all her drowsiness left her, replaced with excitement instead. Detectives worked closely with their medical examiners, but this was a different level of familiarity, an olive branch that was not often extended.

“Yeah, yes! Are you kidding me, of course.” She rocked excitedly on the balls of her feet.

Beatrice chuckled, “Go on, then. Make it quick. I’ll meet you out front.”

Yasmine schooled her expression but let a smile slip through just before she pivoted and rushed down the staircase to the basement. Beatrice could hear her shoes against the linoleum, fast and careless. One did not readily look for signs of distress when they were hurried. She counted on this as she took the side door out of the precinct and into the cold rain.

A shiver rushed down her spine. She lingered on the side of the building, taking both vials that were meticulously labeled PAL86 and dropping them into the rushing, mucky water that led to the storm drain. Beatrice took the toe of her boot and pressed down until she heard the glass shatter.

 She watched as the shards were washed away into the storm drain with the rest of the runoff.

Any traces of lingering sleep dissipated from Detective Ava Silva’s mind as she pulled the Buick close enough to the weathered boardwalk for the wood to splinter. Rain slammed against the windshield, distorting the yellowed streetlamps, and the flashing squad cars. The wind had picked up and whipped viciously against Ava’s side as she slammed the car door.

There was no crowd this time. Bodies were pulled from the canal often and methodically. People who were down on their luck with the metal tip of a needle shoved into the nearest, unmarred vein. Women that stood on street corners while law enforcement looked the other way- because everyone needed to make a living somehow. Everyone needed to survive.

Ava was annoyed, at first. She had been in the kind of deep sleep that weighed heavy on your mind. Why pull her from bed for a body that would never be claimed? Though her grip relaxed on the steering wheel on the way here, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. A body is not simply a body. A life is not simply a life.

Guilt wracked her for being miffed in the first place. This was her job, after all, sleep be damned. She can sleep when her tank ran out of gas. She swallowed a stabilizing breath in the large drops of rain. The sea air was salty and clung to her skin like a film.

Detective Silva stepped over the slumping police tape, raged from the elements. By the time she got there, two police cars flanked the docks and a third, deep plum Ford Pinto was parked meticulously next to them. Ava recognized Detective Alexander’s flashy government-issued car. Okay- maybe Ava didn’t know if it was government issued, but no one could afford an 86’ model on a detective’s salary.

Her stomach churned when she crossed the threshold onto the rotted deck. She wasn’t a big fan of water, never had been. The hollow sound of her footfalls nearly made her want to turn back. Leave the corpse to Beatrice, seeing as she had gotten the jump on the case, to begin with.

There was already a sheet over the body. It reflected what little of the moon shown through the clouds each time they shifted. The rain had evened out, but the wind stayed strong. Beatrice had her jaw clenched; her hands shoved into the pockets of her coat. Yasmine held an umbrella over them both. She looked worse for wear, as green as Ava felt.

“Detective Silva,” Beatrice turned up the corner of her lip in a small smile. A white flag that bled red. “Nice of you to join us.”

She ignored the comment. “Why call us out here for a canal corpse?”

The thought rushed past her lips and exhibited in the mist of her breath, breaking the cold. She hadn’t meant to phrase it like that, really. Not with the uniforms glancing warily over their shoulders at the statement.

“That came out wrong. I mean, it’s not something you usually do.”

“You’re right, I don’t, but this… Detective Alexander was already at the station and decided to let me tag along. Good thing she did, your body is a Hispanic female in her early twenties.” She used the base of her hand to wipe away a drop of frigid rain that had dripped from the edge of the umbrella. “The neck is ripped into. Carotid artery shredded like an expired credit card.”

“Geez. Unidentified?”

Beatrice frowned “Actually, no, the victim is a model by the name of Sabrina Patrick, I’m guaranteeing that you’ve seen her on the side of busses, billboards, and storefronts. You name it. She’s recently branched out into acting; I believe she had a bit part in ‘Fright Night’.”

“No shit! I’ve seen that one!” Ava smacked Beatrice’s arm excitedly and lowered her voice, wiggling her fingers wickedly “Welcome to Fright night… for real.”

Yasmine pinched the bridge of her nose with an exasperated sigh that painted the sky. Beatrice let out a groan and stared at the silver interworking of the umbrella. Ava wasn’t a huge fan of vampires herself, but she did enjoy the campy feel of the movie, and the lead actress wasn’t entirely an eyesore.

Ava schooled her face into professionalism. She felt foolish for asking this question, but it slipped up anyway. “She have her blood?”

“Detective Silva, enough with the movie references,” Beatrice warned.

“Actually, no,” Yasmine said. “Not all of it.”

The last address listed on Sabrina Patrick’s driver's license led Detective Alexander and Detective Silva to a small duplex on a rougher end of town. Much too rough for a successful model, and upcoming actress. Beatrice thought this as she wrapped her hands around the chain link fence that surrounded the property.

It looked untouched, abandoned for the most part. The grass hadn’t been cut in at least a month. It had died and turned a rotten, mushy gray with the oversaturation of the rain. One pane of the large bay window had been shattered and patched up with silver duct tape and a black trash bag that flopped in the wind.

The red words BEWARE OF DOG curled in around itself. Ava reached over the fence and unlatched it before pushing the gate in. An ungodly screech of forgotten hinges made Beatrice’s jaw ache. There was a pit in the center of her stomach that continued to grow, reaching its cold edges out to her ribs, and to her slow-beating heart. Something was not right here.

Her fingers numbly reached for her sidearm, the fabric of her coat scratchy against dry skin. Ava spared her a glance. She was wielding a flashlight, though, Beatrice was sure that she wished she had something more as if she didn’t trust Beatrice to aim and fire her weapon if need be.

Beatrice recalls the first time she fired a gun, her brother's LeMat pistol. It was weighed and inscribed with his initials. Their father had gifted it to him the Christmas before the Civil War began. He taught her how to manage the kickback, and how to hit old cans of food, rusted and empty. Then small animals, squirrels and rabbits were utilized for their pelts.

She could handle the Government regulation gun in her hand now. Beatrice was a quick shot, she bet quicker than Ava. However, neither of them spoke as they tested the strength of the porch. Ava used two knuckles to bang on the chipped door.

“CPD, please come to the door,” She said, commanding.

A shiver worked its way up Beatrice’s spine at the deepness of Ava’s voice, the steadiness in which she delivered her command. They listened for movement inside. Ava couldn’t hear anything, and Beatrice could make out the dull drip of a leak in the kitchen, but not the dull, bugs-buzz of electric, or breathing, or even a rapid heartbeat.

“We’re not going to ask again. Open up!” There was a beat of five more seconds before Ava straightened her posture. “Well. No one’s home.”

“You’re sure?”

Detective Silva removed her jacket. Her arms flexed under the dull morning light. The clouds gave everything a mucky green color that shaded her features. In this light, the daring tightness behind Ava’s eyes, there was a bit of attractiveness. Ava could be quite charming when she wasn’t being a stubborn asshole.

However, those thoughts went right out the window when Ava wrapped her hand in the jacket and used it to shatter out the other half of the window. She took the taped trash bag with it, careful for the remaining shards of glass as she reached around and unclicked the lock.

“Ava, there are protocols!”

She shrugged and shook out her jacket before draping it over the termite-ridden railing at the front of the porch. Ava had a Cheshire grin that dared Beatrice to test her, even with her fingers near the trigger of the gun. “Probable cause.”

Ava opened the door and the stench that instantly hit them made Beatrice swallow back a gag. Detective Silva groaned. It was putrid, a mix of urine and rotting food that made the uneasiness of Beatrice’s stomach deepen.

Newspapers saturated with water and mold were stacked to the ceiling in a long, dark hallway. Insects scattered as new light made its way into the house, the flashlight sweeping over a staircase. There was a living area to the left, and a dining room to the right. All stacked high with newspapers, old DVDs, bottles that contained sticky forgotten soda, and take-out containers that squirmed with maggots.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Ava retched.

“Don’t take the lord's name in vain.” Beatrice’s eyes were watering. Everything was so defined and she couldn’t take a deep breath if she tried. Her lungs contracted.

“I did not take the lord's name in vain.” Ava used one arm to cover her nose, tentatively taking a step through the threshold “I found it very useful, actually. Are you coming?”

She kept her firearm lowered to her side, though the home exhibited all the signs of being long abandoned, Beatrice felt the same cloying anxiety she got every single time she entered a new residence. Her partner couldn’t exactly invite her in. The rules were finicky, but one stayed consistent: She could not enter without being invited in by the owner.

Subsequently, if there was no owner, she could step through the doorway. She held her breath for more than one reason, but took one foot and exhaled when she heard the rubber sole of her shoe crunch against the broken glass from the window.

Ava shook her head when Beatrice lifted her chin to the living area. They had to follow a strict pathway. There was a clear direction carved out amongst the garbage, the old National Geographic magazines, and the dirt-caked clothing. She was too humble to open her mouth and protest. Beatrice was not prepared to dry heave.

The steps to the second level were sturdy and Beatrice stuck close to the small circle of light that Ava provided. They made it to the top of the steps before Ava turned, the blinding light flashing across Beatrice’s stare before moving back to the floor.

“We should call for backup,” Beatrice mumbled, watching as a cockroach skittered over her shoe. “This place needs to be searched and condemned.”

However, Ava wasn’t listening to her. Instead, she was frowning. Beatrice reared back as the beam of light crossed her gaze three more times, Ava staring at her with an intensity that Beatrice had to blink away, along with the silver flashes of the light. She reached out and grabbed Ava’s wrist gently.

“What are you doing?”

“Your eyes are weird.”

“Yes, most likely due to the asbestos in here,” Beatrice growled, redirecting the light with the soft push of Ava’s hand. “Now, can we please finish the sweep and get out of here?”

Ava seemed to let it go. They pulled apart from one another and made the careful journey that the pathway allowed. Beatrice tried not to think about what crunched under her feet. They made it to the bedroom at the end of the hall: something that Beatrice assumed was a bedroom.

She was still blinking blotches of red and blue from her vision, But when it did focus, she located the four-post bed. It floated in a sea of debris. She got a sudden whiff of congealed blood, deteriorated flesh.

The brittle corpse of an older man, or at least what Beatrice made out to be one. It was hard, under the squirming mass of insects that had made a home between his ribs, and hollowed-out cheeks. Flies flanked the windows, daylight flitting through their wings. The buzzing was deafening.

This time, Ava did vomit, bile, and coffee joining the other masses on the floor. When she keeled over, her flashlight hit something that caught Beatrice’s attention. She placed a comforting hand on the small of Ava’s back but worked the flashlight from her hand at the same time.

Drywall had begun to crumble from the far wall, exposing brick, and wood, the innards of the house. Flies circled a painted symbol on the wall, once a vibrant red color. It had faded into the deep brown that only blood could afford.

“What the fuck is that?” Ava asked. She spits the acrid taste from her mouth. “Seriously, that’s… God, I’m going to be sick.”

Beatrice’s mouth was dry. A cross, a very specific cross, had been etched onto the wall. Arrows tipped every end, and large, stretching lines belted them. She’d seen it before, she’d had it carved into her shoulder blade with the chemical quickness that even she couldn’t heal from.

Detective Alexander fought the urge to stick the gun to her temple, and Detective Silva heaved the other half of her breakfast.

Three showers later and Beatrice could still clock the odor of decay on her skin. It was masked by vanilla, the slightest bit of detergent, and sweat. But it was there, lurking under the surface. She didn’t bother drying her hair. Instead, she padded into the living area and curled up on one end of the sofa. The rain had begun to fall again, barely noticeable.

She loved the view of the city slightly more, knowing that it wasn’t choked with flies swarming in a colony. In all her years, all the death, all the torture, all the pain, she had never seen deterioration such as that.

Many of her kind lost the ability to feel. It came with the territory. Day in and day out, the world would spin on its axis and empathy would escape the soul in small, barely noticeable breaths, until there was nothing left at all.

Beatrice was convinced that Lilith was getting there, and with nothing to be done about stopping it, she watched. Her roommate was absent, and she was grateful for the fact. What’s another corpse? This was not simply a corpse; this was a message. If not to her, then to the city. Then to those who did not know of the dangers that lurked just below the surface.

Eighty-four-year-old Tom Thornton had rented out his spare room to up-and-coming actress Sabrina Patrick seven months ago. She went missing after filming Fright Night over the summer. Within that time, the home had become a nest, of sorts. She had no idea how many were living there, for how long.

Tom Thornton was most likely killed within hours of Sabrina, left to fester. Beatrice curled deeper into herself, ran her fingers over the seam of her sweatpants, and clenched her eyes shut. She could move, leave the city, leave Detective Silva in the wreckage. But then again, she found the girl endearing and she was never much of a runner.

“Bea?”

Beatrice must have drifted into something of a fitful dissociation. The silvery scent of blood made her mouth water, her jaw ache as her canines threatened to slip into her mouth. Camila was sitting on the coffee table, a steaming mug in her hands.  

“You should eat something.”

It was a peace offering, Beatrice guessed. She took the mug gratefully, not realizing how hungry she was until that subtle burn in the back of her throat ignited into full flame. She took a sip, warmed in the microwave like popcorn.

Camila had guilt written all over her face. Beatrice had taught the girl, away from most civilization, how to function as a member of the undead. They’d curbed the initial, dominating feeling of want that crossed over to the other side, the sensitivity to the sun. How to take what you needed without taking too much.

She’d given the same instruction to Lilith, who had taken to it naturally. But Camila was different. It wasn’t about survival for her, it was about empathy, about doing things right and there was nothing right about what they’d become.

“I wanted to apologize.” She started after Beatrice had slowly gulped down half of the mug. “For the banker, I mean. I’ve risked our existence here, and so soon after we’ve settled. I understand if you want me to go.”

Beatrice placed a steadying hand on the girl’s knee “Camila, I could never ask such a thing. Besides, it’s been taken care of. You must be more vigilant, though. You know I’ve never restricted how you feed, when you feed.”

“I know,” She whispered, using the edge of her hand to wipe away an escaped tear. “I know, and I am grateful. I was… chased away, I couldn’t finish what I started.”

Beatrice straightened, putting both feet on the floor. The tears were flowing freely from Camila’s red-rimmed eyes now. She had clasped her hands between her knees nervously.

“Chased?”

“Yeah. Yes. By a group of vampires. There were five or six of them… no, definitely five. I guess they smelled the blood. Too many for me to fight off, and I didn’t want to initiate something like that. I didn’t know we traveled in that big of groups.”

“We don’t.”

Beatrice had reluctantly turned Lilith herself and had done the same for Camila. It wasn’t unheard of for sires to stick with their makers, but five? She couldn’t create that many in an immortal lifetime if she tried. It was draining, nearly unfathomable.

Though, she knew someone who had dreams of grandeur such as those.

She swallowed down the rest of the liquid in the cup, used her thumb to wipe the blotch of color from the corner of her lip. There were others in the city, she knew, others that had slain methodically.

Beatrice clenched her eyes shut and draped her head over the back of the couch. Despite the fear, the symbol painted on the wall, and a city sure to be overrun with sired vampires, she could only think one thing: She should rent Fright Night from Blockbuster.

[elizabethplaid]

Daily notes - July 30, 2023

Welp, my computer crashed (the 3rd time since I've been home?) while typing up this post. Thanks staff, for saving drafts automatically with the new post editor (versus legacy posts).

Dad comes home tomorrow. We He cleaned the house before the surgery, knowing neither of us would be up for chores afterward. I had a few chores already knocked off my list, because they didn't need to be done again. Does that count as an accomplishment? Yes, because I actually checked on the task, rather than ignoring it (like usual).

Nothing critical below, so you can skip if you don't wanna read. Just talking out my thoughts, to help process stuff.

The 2 biggest things I want to hide are the mess of craft stuff on my couch and the bigger items I got from Goodwill. By "hide", I mean, I want to tidy it up and stash it away, rather than blatantly leave it everywhere. The craft stuff on the couch includes project bags of stuff I set aside.

I'm determined to put all my "for the craft fair" items in a separate bin. Oh! I just remembered that I have a clear-plastic drawer thing that's unused. It was gonna go towards doll stuff, but having it in the living room for crafts is even better! And, with it being clear, I won't lose sight of things. Oh yay, I feel clever.

Current list:

take upstairs: lol displays check!, wood cabinet, etc

gather laundry (just get it in a hamper)

gather empty bottles

gather trash upstairs

gather trash in living room

tidy side table in living room check!

put away clean dishes technically check!

put away/organize new yarn

load new CDs on laptop

take 1-4 scale doll suitcase upstairs

keep yarn from said suitcase downstairs

designate bin for craft fair items

check house for any cat puke and clean it

shower Sunday night

Mid-term tasks, involving non-hermit habits

pick up recently filled Rx, refill pill caddy

call doc's office for sample appointment

call counselor to check on appointment

Longer term tasks

wash knitting needles

wash Kitty Surprise plush

check on reward accounts for Michael's, Goodwill, Target, Bullmoose

make list of Amazon shopping items

back up computer files